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Chapter 4: Recognition
Reanalds Mansion Gates, Hyrule Province Link approached the foot of the outlook plateau at a measured walk, Epona trailing behind without having to be led. Looking up into the late-morning sky, he could just spot the profile of Lord Reanalds' summer mansion perched atop its modest peak like a jewel on a stony crown. There was enough space up there for the building and an expansive, greenly-growing garden, and then cliffs fell off sharply on all sides except the front, which descended erratically through a series of man-made cutbacks and carved stairways to the vast, wild plains of southern Hyrule province. It had to be a pain to get supplies up there without any cart-accessible paths, but it was also surprisingly defensible for a noble's pleasure mansion. That thought made Link consider Lord David Reanalds, Earl of Ordonia. Despite living on his land for years, Link had never met, nor even seen the man. Honestly, he couldn't have picked the fellow out of a crowd to save his life. The world of Hyrule's upper-crust was a closed book to a farm-hand who'd taken up adventuring. Indeed, the only aristocrat he'd spent any length of time with was Midna, and if she had been any kind of indicator, 'the other half' was just as prone to mistakes, pettiness, and selfishness as the rest of humanity—assuming the twilli could be counted among their number. The same went for the traits of greatness, and Princess Zelda immediately sprang to his mind. That was nobility—a man could really believe that creature was a wholly different breed of person. If nobles were all like that, he could understand why they ran the country. As he rounded a last rocky outcropping, Link spotted a manned gatehouse right where he figured the bottom of the stairway must be. With a sigh, he turned and pulled some of his supplies off Epona's saddle and urged her off, and she obediently cantered away to graze. It was an old routine, and he had no fear she'd be unable to find him again when he called. He pitied the poor fool that tried to steal that horse, and any wildlife would know better than to tangle with a young, healthy charger, or that wildlife would soon be taught to respect those hooves. It took mere moments for him to attach his sword and shield, bow and quiver, bomb bags, and supply backpack to the harness of his new armor, although he did have a spot of trouble with the cloak. He was on his way toward the gates soon enough though, and took a moment to admire this latest acquisition as he walked. Malo had outdone himself. When Link had first seen the mish-mash of dull-looking metal in the crate waiting for him south of Castle town, he'd been less than happy. No one piece of it matched any other piece, and it looked a terrible mess to assemble all that. He'd missed his elegantly effective, visually understated hero's armor immediately. And then, something had clicked in his brain, and he'd done a complete mental reversal as the light came on in his head. Forty minutes of work with the pile of leather harnessing that had come part-in-parcel with the disarray of metal was all it took, and even that was only because he'd been working by lamplight. The time was spent sorting and fitting mostly, and he discarded half of what Malo had turned up as too heavy or too conspicuous. The finished product he now wore was not pretty in any sense, but the functionality he'd tested and re-tested couldn't be denied. It was a significant improvement over the light chain mail of his hero's cloths, and even better from Link's perspective, it made him look nothing at all like a divinely anointed hero. There was metal, but its tacky weatherproofing coat meant it didn't gleam, and the patchwork of materials had an undeniably swarthy quality that lent itself more to the man who robbed you than the one who caught him. The trick to the composite armor that had danced into his brain out of nowhere was the layering. The first component of what he'd assembled was a tight layer of thick, padded brown leather reinforced with strips of jointed steel on the shoulders and along the sides of his chest, and a set of matching armored greaves that went over his pants. The padding was skin-tight and shaped to stretch around him as he maneuvered, only slightly more cumbersome than a tight suit, but wasn't much protection by itself. Added to that, however, was a second-hand shirt of top-quality chain mail, easily the equal of that woven into his hero's greens and enough to stop a blade cold if he caught it correctly. As an extra precaution, he'd used cord and thongs to reinforce the mail with rigid bands of steel plate at the shoulders and chest, as well as a few other places. That had taken a while, because he'd had to balance protection with mobility there more than with anything else. A final, very light leather harness went over it all to grip it down and keep it tight, ensuring nothing would rattle around when he had to be sneaky. After layering came accessorizing, and here Link had lucked out, because Malo knew some people who knew some people. Somehow, to Link's delight, Malo had managed to dig up a set of extremely fine fingerless gauntlets, their leather supple enough at the palms to be no impediment to his grip, and yet lined along the back with a layer of plated steel thick enough to block a swordstrike and reinforced at the knuckles for punching. The boots were also an excellent find. They came up to his knees in the horse-warrior's style, and were layered with steel bars and plated toes. They were of the highest quality in plated leather, and had even been broken-in by their previous owner. Finally, making some allowances for travel considerations he'd become painfully familiar with, he'd thrown on a warm, waterproof grey tunic of rather cheap, unadorned fabric and donned a hefty brown cloak that bore a strong resemblance to an anti-weather tarp. It was all quite filthy already. Link was getting close to the gates, and the two men posted outside it were watching him approach with closed, unfriendly expressions. Each armsman was leaning on a spear and wore a sword on his hip, along with a suit of light chain mail under a tunic bearing a fancy uniform coat of arms. Link eventually recognized the blue-striped black fleur as the same one worn by the tax collector who came to Ordon once a season. "Well," he thought to himself as he ignored the dirty looks he was getting, "at least I know I'm in the right place." "Greetings!" Link shouted out loud, raising both hands in a signal of good faith. The two guards, apparently hoping he'd just pass them by on the rutted dirt road, came to guarded stances as he closed in on them. He wasn't making any kind of secret of the fact that he was armed, but when he raised his hands, his cloak drew back and revealed the none-too-modest arsenal hanging beneath it. It was enough to put anyone on edge, and these guys were trained security guards. "You just stand right were you are stranger," said the guard on the left, and then stood a little more at ease when Link actually did stop. "If you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and just keep walking down that road, son. You don't want any of the trouble we could make for you—now git!" "Now hold on there," Link said, shrugging off the man's open threat, "I have legitimate business with some people staying in that oversized barn back there. If you'll just send someone to tell Old Man Auru that—" Link was cut off by the storm of laughter that erupted loud and strong from the two guards the moment they realized what he was saying. He just let them yuk it up and get it out of their system, frowning all the while. It didn't so much anger him as it did really get on his nerves; he had much better things he could be doing right now than humoring these imbeciles by pretending they could stop him from going where he wanted. "Now you listen to me stranger," the other guard said when he'd finished laughing, "I'll allow that you've got an odd sense of humor, but now would be a good time for you to quit while you're ahead." He tapped the butt of his spear on the ground and loosened himself up in a futile attempt at intimidation. "The Lord is hosting a big-ass shindig up on the hill, and the last thing we're gonna do is stick our necks out by bugging one of his big-wig friends on the word of a long-eared scum-stain like you. Now scram, kid, you're bothering me." "Are you done?" Link asked, his arms crossed over his chest in a gesture of waning patience. "Because I really do need to get in there and chat with some folks. I don't know if there's some official process where I could get word up the hill—" "Are you deaf, boy?" The first guard asked, brandishing his spear. "We're not going to ask nicely next time!" "Oh for Din's sake!" Link tossed his hands up in a hopeless gesture, "I'm really not interested in arguing with you two. Here," he reached into his cloak, "I have this letter, if you'd just—" "HEY!" both guards scrambled to level their spears on him the moment he reached under his cloak. Link froze as he found a pair of five-inch points quivering in his face. He stared down the two spear shafts, sighed, and rolled his eyes. "You two be careful where you point those pig-stickers," Link said, in an even tone that was more admonitory and condescending than threatening. "You might hurt somebody. Now, I came here by request of some rather important people, and I'm giving you this perfectly reasonable opportunity to do your job and connect me with them." "Why you—!" Link tracked the spear as the second guard whipped it around to wallop him with the shaft. The attack was telegraphed and clumsy, but would still have knocked his teeth out if he hadn't swayed back from the strike. The wild swing continued on its path, uninterrupted until it cracked his partner in the hands instead. The first guard bellowed and dropped his weapon, cursing virulently in shock and agony. The spearman's jaw dropped as he realized what he'd done, and his eyes filled with a new layer of fury as he leveled the point at Link, fully on guard now. "What?" Link asked, not having to pretend his innocence. He hadn't even tried to draw a weapon, and he didn't intend to. "Jim, ma' hand's broken Jim!" the first guard was keeled over cradling his hand. "Get that punk for me!" "You're leaving right now!" Jim told Link, the threat having elevated from a beating to outright murder. Link's expression still hadn't budged from unimpressed annoyance. "I'm not going anywhere until I've spoken with the people who called for me. I'm sorry about your friend, but—" "Last chance stranger!" he said, but before Link could even try to calm him down, his injured friend took the situation out of both their hands. He turned and drew his sword in one unexpected motion, but Link was reading his movements the instant he heard the hiss of metal freeing from scabbard. Thus, while the other guard was stunned by his friend's attack, Link spun to his side and watched the wild sword-charge miss spectacularly. The charging man hadn't made any allowances for missing, and tripped into a ditch with a wet sound and a spray of mud. "Tom?" the guard who was still brandishing his spear leaned around Link to see his friend lying unconscious, belly-up in a mud puddle. He suddenly remembered the threatening stranger he'd been covering, and drew in a breath to shout for help. Link caught wind of that well in advance, and made a snap decision. Before he'd finished his sharp breath, Link had rolled inside his guard and buried his fist into the man's gut. Link did not give him his best shot—not by far. Though he wasn't consciously aware of his own strength as it stacked against humans just yet, a restraining impulse compelled him to pull his punch back to about 1/3 of what it could have been. Thus, the guard felt the metal joists of Link's gauntlet bury into his sternum like a battering ram, and merely passed out. He did not have his chest cracked like an eggshell and his heart pulverized into quivering meat-paste, such as a full-force, expertly-placed, steel-clad punch from a warrior like Link could have managed. Rather than expire, he exhaled his breath in a quietly agonized wheeze and crumbled to the ground in a heap of armor. Link considered the two unconscious men distastefully, unused to perpetrating violence on other humans, although this barely qualified on the scale he'd come to use. He didn't like it one bit, especially considering the fact that they'd never stood a chance, and probably wouldn't have had the guts to really hurt him, even if it had been possible. He could tell just by watching them fight that these two were weekend-warriors at best, out here in front of this mansion drawing a wage and getting what kicks they could with the authority that came with it. Come to think of it, that was rather a lot to draw from merely watching them bumble with their weapons, but the more he considered it, the more he was sure of himself. With a shake of his head, Link picked both men's pockets, turning up the gate key, a handful of rupees, and a deck of Hylian playing cards. Pocketing the money and cards as an 'annoying Link' tax, Link walked up the path and let himself into the mansion's ground-level complex. Immediately inside, he passed a gatehouse on his right and a grove of decorative trees and shrubs blocking the yard on his left. A few more steps up the wide cart-path let Link into a sort of courtyard, and the thunderous sound of voices and unmistakable smell of horses both rolled down around the corner. A circumspect glance around told Link he wouldn't be getting in this way. Apparently, the two fools outside hadn't been kidding about the party, because here was evidence in droves. Down beneath the stairway leading up the cliff side was a large stable and the main courtyard complex, and it was currently packed to the gills with ritzy-looking carriages. Of course, along with the carriages of wealthy folk came the quarterhorses, the drivers, and the armed bodyguards. The human elements of that equation were currently packed into and all around the complex's undersized guard barracks having their own sort of party while the nobs cavorted up on the hill. Not one was on guard, and most of them appeared to be at least slightly drunk, but Link would have to go right through them to reach the stairs. Now, he had little doubt he could blend in if he tried, even without wearing a coat of arms, but there was a second guarded gate between the ground complex and the stairs, probably meant to keep the riff-raff out in the yard from wandering up to their betters. If he was challenged there, there would be no way to keep the whole lot of them off his back. The prospect of kicking his way through the whole crowd held no fear for Link, but the idea of massacring them disgusted him in an abstract way. Even with a crowd as rough as that, by sheer odds, he was bound to kill an innocent person. Essentially, he just wasn't in the mood for a workout, and taking that many men without killing any definitely qualified as exercise. Killing people was easy—not killing them was a massive exertion of razor-fine control. Those two guards would never know how lucky they were that his combat instinct sensed such an absolute lack of real threat from them, and he'd been able to maintain the state of mind that automatically refrained from precision killing blows. Besides all that, he couldn't imagine it would endear him to his hosts if he broke their stooges before they could take them all back home. Another thought occurred to Link, and he turned back to take care of some loose ends. A moment later, he came back in through the gate dragging both guards, one hand on each of their collars. A quick search turned up a storage shed built out behind the gatehouse of the outermost gate, the entire path there well out of sight of the courtyard. That was where Link deposited his two foolish friends. He then sat down on one of the many pots inside to consider his next move. While he thought, he discovered the small table where off-shift guards would play cards and slack off, and more importantly, he found it supplied. Extremely fine food, certainly looted from the excess being served at the party, as well as a large jug both came quickly to hand. After snacking a bit, he discovered that the jug was filled with a light, fruity beer, and he tucked it and a kerchief full of food into his bag for later. At length, lacking anything better to do, he stood up and began to search at random through the room's stock of crates. There were plenty of repair supplies for patching the decorative brick walls or replacing the steel spikes of the gates themselves, but not a whole lot to work with. He was about to give up on that too when he came across a box that looked as though it had never been opened. He cracked it, and inside was a huge coil of fresh rope and some wicked looking iron spines on a ring. A plan occurred to him immediately, although he'd have to double back a ways and shimmy through some tight spots before he could get to the place he was thinking of. And of course, getting back again would be tricky as hell. There was a clattering sound behind him, and Link turned just in time to see one of the pots rattle to a noisy stop. Instantly to mind came similar pots from musty rooms in a dozen dank dungeons. Link hated fate, especially the sense that he wasn't in command of his own destiny. Coincidence, however, was fine by him, especially when it worked out in his favor. Reanalds Mansion Gardens, Hyrule Province Zelda smiled forcefully at the most recent knot of nobles and other worthies she'd come to, and watched in satisfaction as every one of them perked visibly. With words she couldn't even remember, she thanked them for attending, assured them that the country was doing wonderfully, assuaged their fears about this tax or that rumor, and thanked them for working hard to make Hyrule great. Though she rarely bothered to keep track of what pleasant nothings she energized her subjects with, she got the impression that every one of them took her words to heart and felt personally touched by her brief attentions. In a way, she couldn't understand how she was doing it, but it was all so natural that it hardly seemed to matter. Ever since she'd taken up her crown in the wake of Gannondorf's plot, such things had been as effortless as breathing. To her, people in groups were like goats, you just had to herd them along. With verbal pokes and prods that didn't even register as words in her mind, she could weave a spell of syllables that would goad them to whatever emotion or point of view she desired. Her brief chances to test it had largely come this very day, and she'd found her limit to be turning around strongly held opinions on specific subjects, or trying to influence a single person face-to-face. On the other hand, the bigger the crowd, the easier it was to create a strong, non-specific feeling. It seemed to go hand in hand with the way her mind was working lately, and it didn't take her burgeoning powers of reasoning to suspect why it was happening. She took a surreptitious glance at her left hand, but the Triforce symbol was absent. "Your Majesty, Baron Olander has expressed an interest in speaking with you, as have the…" Zelda's attention wandered from the steward whispering in her ear, confident that he would discreetly guide her wherever her presence was required. Zelda was possessed of a certainty that if anything important came up, she'd snap back to the conversation and be well-placed to handle it, and so she let her thoughts wander. A part of her mind she didn't bother paying attention to handled all the dreary details of working the crowd: small talk, body language, facial expression, and all the rest. That left several parts free. Out of the corner of one eye, Zelda spotted Lady Reanalds and her daughter Avril trying very hard not to look like they were watching her. They were doing a terrible job, and they were even worse at concealing their petty envy. Both were gorgeous, pale beauties with dark hair done up in magnificent, piled-high styles that must have taken hours; each wore dresses styled to match without giving the impression that they were trying to. Zelda was aware that they delighted in making other women and girls in these high-society situations into victims of their condescension, and doubtless they'd hoped to try their luck with her. But she was princess, soon to be queen, and no matter what else, that meant she won. What was more: she really was outshining them in a way that had nothing to do with her social status, and had blossomed into the absolute center of their party. For her, it wasn't arrogance—she could sense it like a smell or a sound. She was radiant in the gifted dress from Lord Reanalds, the brilliant red and shining gold patterns stitched onto it gleaming in the afternoon sun. With the barest effort, Zelda was magnetically attracting the admiration of everyone around her, and the party tilted on her axis as she wove through it. It was like the party was a stream, with currents and eddies, and Zelda was looking down at it from above, diverting its flow as she wished. The sense of power it granted was significant, but Zelda's mind had little patience for enthralling sensations like power. She had more important things to deal with. Suddenly, a merchant in the group that had come down from Kakariko asked some very pertinent questions about royal funding of settlement incentives and reconstruction initiatives, and Zelda devoted her full attention to distracting him from the subject entirely and leaving him with the sense that she'd answered his question and the change was his own idea. She didn't need anyone to suspect that she was leaving off on aid to that region, because she didn't need anyone to realize how close they were to war with Ghent. Rebuilding land that might soon be occupied was not high on her priority list. The loop she led the fellow through would have been amusing, but she shuffled aside her satisfaction to consider her two largest problems once again. Ghent. What was she going to do about Ghent? After running a whole host of scenarios, Zelda was left with no good choices. A diplomatic mission was all she had resources for, and so she'd have to settle for that, clearly, but it was highly unlikely that such would manage things there. She might be making a big deal about nothing—they could honestly be doing mock exercises at the border—but she didn't think so, and it didn't pay to plan for anything less than the worst possibility in any case. The problem gnawed at her, though such never made it to her face. And of course, her other problem was resplendent in a colorful embroidered tunic that best played to his athletic figure. The Lord Reanalds mingled around his party like he really enjoyed it, which he might. She discreetly kept an eye on him, watching for him to make the move she had devised was coming, not wanting to miss the fireworks. She figured she could handle the man, but something about him threw her off-kilter, and she just couldn't place her finger on it. The way he got under her skin was a distraction that seriously threatened her ability to work on Hyrule's future, and she would be happy for the day she could escape this forced proximity to him and his toxic family. "I think I'll step aside for some air," Princess Zelda said to no one in particular. None the less, her crew of stewards would now politely delay anyone asking about her, indefinitely if necessary. She would lose control of the affair, but she'd impressed everyone she cared to with the general sense that the crown was in secure hands, and she was tired of practicing these abilities that she'd discovered. She needed a break, and she wove through the crowd until she found its edge. Now that she didn't care for attention, people suddenly lost track of her, and when she felt no eyes upon her, Zelda quickly stepped around the side of a towering hedge. She took a few turns in the squared-off array of boxes with gaps that was a token attempt at a hedge maze, and discovered a balcony with a breathtaking view. She had to admit, Reanalds Mansion had a premiere location. The cliff it had been built upon looked out over Hyrule Castle in its great valley on one face, and still had a glimpse of shining Lake Hylia on another. It was like a beautiful fortress, and another use of fortresses had always been prisons. She tried not to think of it that way, and of course, her duty was to her people, but there was much she hadn't seen in this world, and her curiosity was vast. Vast, and growing steadily as her mind expanded. "Rupee for your thoughts?" a familiar voice said, and Zelda jolted with shock. He couldn't be here. It was impossible in so many ways that she doubted she could number them. "What's the matter? Weren't you expecting me?" Zelda glanced around in a half-panic as she searched for the source of that terribly familiar voice, and didn't find it until she was tipped off by an intermittent, almost sarcastic 'psst' sound from below. Stacked with disbelief, Zelda looked straight down over the balcony, and there he was. He looked different, clinging to the cliff side with one hand as he waved genially up at her with the other. For one, she'd never seen him out of his hero's garb, and it was such a change that it took her a moment to recognize him, even though she'd already placed his voice. At the moment, he was wearing a jacket of mixed leather and chain mail under a grey cloak that made him look like some kind of mysterious, armed vagabond. With weapons harnessed to every part of his back and belt, he appeared ready to take on a whole division by himself, or perhaps slay a giant, man-eating monster. She knew on an instinctive level he was quite capable of both simultaneously, if it came to that. "Link?" she couldn't keep the disbelief out her voice, despite the evidence right before her eyes. Apparently, he'd scaled the cliff on the Lake Hylia face, though a quick glance showed he'd at least enough sense to use climbing gear. "In the name of the goddesses, what on earth are you doing here?" Zelda couldn't manage more than a conspiratorial whisper, some part of her recognizing that no amount of spin could make this look good if they were suddenly discovered. "For that matter, how did you even find me?" "Huh, well, that's some way to greet someone you sent out for," Link said, his conversational, complaining tone at extreme odds with his terrifyingly vertical situation. It was also at odds with the way a commoner spoke to royalty, but neither of them noticed that in the slightest. "Why am I not surprised that you're surprised? I should have figured something was up when nothing I said to the gate guards persuaded them to let me speak to someone with actual authority." He paused, shaking his head in exaggerated annoyance. "As for how we met like this, I'll be da—" Link suddenly remembered who he was talking to—a lady—and changed his swear, "darned if I know. I'd call it fate, only I hate fate. So let's just call it a happy coincidence that you came to the balcony I chose to climb toward. If nothing else, you rescued some servant somewhere from getting beaten up and striped like those terribly un-helpful gate guards." "What?" Zelda whispered her shriek of woe, "you assaulted some of Reanalds' men? Link—''why'' would you—" "Here!" Link said, navigating the labyrinth of weaponry on his harness to fish a rather grubby letter out his belt. He thrust it up, and Zelda was forced to crouch and pluck it from between the balcony railing posts, vertigo assailing her as the dizzying heights below Link became that much more apparent. With a quick scan, Zelda knew what had happened, and pieced together events of the recent past on intuition and conjecture. If Auru had been there at that moment, he probably wouldn't have survived the experience. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just get up off this cliff…" "Don't!" Zelda said, "You can't be seen here, it'll cause an uproar." "Well, yeah, but—" Link looked left and right, then back over his shoulder. Then he shrugged. "Whatever you want, Your Majesty." "I'm so sorry Link," Zelda said, sincerity pouring from her heart as she leaned against the balcony railing and looked down at him. An effort of massive concentration kept her from falling over at the cavernous view stretching below him, the same view he'd shrugged off without effort while clinging to the wall by a line and his own hands. "I never meant for you to hear about this, certainly not from us. I… didn't want to ask anything more of you. After everything you've done for Hyrule—" "Please, Princess," Link said, shifting his weight on his hand and toe grips for comfort, "Believe it or not, I'm a big boy capable of making my own decisions. You don't need to worry about protecting me from anything, certainly not from simple knowledge. Now tell me, I've already resolved to travel around, do you or do you not have some kind of task I could think about taking care of while I'm hoofing around the country? Frankly, I could use a point in the right direction." The moment he freely offered his aid, Zelda felt something inside her crumble and give way. Just like that, the staggering guilt complex lingering in Zelda's heart, the one she didn't even consciously recognize, finally burst. In a disorienting wave, the change freed up lines of logic and action possibilities she'd blocked out without even realizing it. At the same time, she realized exactly why it had been there in the first place. It was a bitter drought all around, and she had nothing but her own insight to blame for how well she recognized her folly. The fate of Hyrule had landed on Link's shoulders without anyone asking if he wanted it, and since she knew exactly what it was like to have crushing responsibilities you'd never asked for, she'd felt terrible about it. It was her country, her responsibility, but she hadn't been able to protect it without consuming Link's freedom into her vacuous lifestyle of duty. She felt it must be even worse for him, because he received none of the privilege that went along with it, and didn't appear to want any of it, anyway. That it had all been the march of fate, as inexorable as the changing seasons and inevitable as the sunrise, hadn't lessened the weight upon her heart at what had happened to him. Beneath her logical mind, down where emotions still ruled her path, the choice had been made, and made poorly. Some naive part of her had imagined he'd be able to get his quiet life back if she just left him out of her problems, but she'd been wrong. The damage was done, and couldn't be undone. But… Link forgave her, if he'd ever even blamed her at all. Indeed, she could sense no grudge in him, not a trace of the resentment she'd imagined was all he could hold toward a symbol of what stole away his simple world. Now, Link wanted to help, and with that wildcard resource added to the variable pool, the new possibilities were limitless. Zelda had another, heavier dizzy spell as her brain went into overdrive, and Link looked on in wonder as he saw the change occurring. He could literally see her mind ticking like the world's most intricate piece of clockwork, an aura of energy pouring out of her and making his skin tingle. Without a doubt, Link realized what people must feel when hereally let loose, and it was at once comforting and distressing. Until he saw it, it never occurred to Link that Zelda would be facing the same strange changes he'd encountered. Intellectually, he knew she'd held the Triforce of Wisdom only as long as he'd held Courage, but she'd always been such an aloof, mysterious entity that he simply took for granted that she'd have controlling it well in hand. She wobbled on her feet and moaned, eyes staring at nothing, and he had to reconsider that assumption. Zelda, meanwhile, was in the throes of a true revelation. Deep in her bones, she was aware of what Link was capable of, even above and beyond the astonishing things she'd actually witnessed from him or suspected he'd done. It was the same sense of connection, of ancient understanding and intimate knowledge, that she'd felt the first time Midna had brought him to her. Knowing she had that on her side was what had given her the confidence to cast off her bleak despair and endure her time imprisoned between light and twilight. It was the same bone-deep familiarity that made these words they shared seem long-familiar, rather than the most they'd ever spoken to one another at one time. With knowledge of that power, Zelda was faced with plans and schemes in such dazzling array that it nearly brought her to her knees to try and sort them. What's more, an odd certainty had gripped her. Some confident, haughty voice whispered it to her: that as long as she dealt with him fairly and at least appeared to keep her intentions in line with his, he would achieve wonders untold at her bidding. At length, the swirling maelstrom of answers to the question, 'what can I do for you,' became too much, and Zelda was forced to block it all out. "Come on Princess," Link said, almost surprising himself with how playful the words came out, "I'm sure there's at least someone around I could rough up for you. I'm good at extracting retribution—case in point: When we were kids, there was a boy who picked on my friend Ilia at the provincial fair, and made her cry. That kid went home without teeth. I'm sure you've got something that a leather-necked goat-jockey like me could 'handle' for you." Behind his smiling eyes, Link was finally listened to his own words, and was aghast. He was talking to the living embodiment of the goddesses' authority on Earth, and he was treating her like an old friend. And yet, speaking to her like this felt so right, the impropriety hadn't even registered at first. He hadn't noticed this familiarity during their past encounters, certainly not while preoccupied with terror over Midna's welfare in one way or another. Which, come to think of it, was most of the times they'd met—they hadn't exactly crossed paths in many situations that lent themselves to casual conversation. So far this meeting, they'd more than doubled all the words they'd ever said directly to one another, but he still felt like he'd been in her confidence since the day he was born. "Link… you may yet save Hyrule again," Zelda said quietly, as a slow smile spread across her face.'' 'And again, and again…' she added in her own mind. Then, something happened to her, as she looked down at Link's rakish smile with her problems dissolving away. With that self-imposed block out of her mind, Zelda could consider Link with all of her faculties. He was in her corner now, she was certain of it, and would protect her with his life, even as he worked to shift the weight of her burden partly onto himself. Of course, she had no reason to believe all that, but the sense of it choked her up, and her eyes misted as she flushed slightly. Link noticed, but said nothing. Dabbing the tears away with and expression of embarrassment and annoyance, Zelda switched back to work before the situation got any more uncomfortable. She had to think of the best way to capitalize on Link as an agent, and that immediately set her to the problems of dealing with such a subtle, yet super-human element. With the monumental tasks she envisioned for him, he might well become famous beyond measure. Notoriety would limit his usefulness in discreet actions, even as it forced others to reconsider Hyrule as a target of schemes. Still, her immediate desire to knight him and set him to work was tempered by the mumbling of her ever-emerging, sneakier side. What if he worked in somewhat looser association with her efforts? It couldn't hurt to sound him out about it. "Link, before I give you your first orders—" "Orders?" Link raised an eyebrow, and Zelda realized that he was the first person to freely interrupt her in months. Not even Reanalds dared to cut her off mid-sentence these days. That Link had done it several times already and she hadn't even noticed until now said a lot about how inexplicably natural and informal this dialogue really was. "Princess, I want to help, but let's get something clear. I'm not one of your flunkies to be ordered about. I don't want to be a knight of the crown or any such thing—I haven't the stomach for standing in the public eye. Honestly, I don't even want to be on the ''payroll." "Oh… well… good," Zelda said, staggered by the coincidence. That certainly made working him as an under-cover agent a bit easier. Several flashes of insight zinged through her brain at once, her professional interests colliding with a very quiet, incredibly insistent private interest, and she was left smiling a devious little smile. "In that case… would you consent to… well… to being my personal agent?" she heard herself ask quickly, before her flush of bravado faded and her heart began to throb. In the silence that followed, she was compelled to add, "Strictly under-the-table, of course." "The Princess's Knight?" Link asked, and he smiled in spite of himself, "Yeah, I think I like the sound of that, especially if it's only the two of us that have to hear it. What exactly would it entail?" "First of all, no one can know that we're in contact," Zelda said as her heart raced, forcing her to suppress a growing anxiety before it showed in her voice or expression, "which will be complicated by the fact that we'll have a way to contact each other at any time. We'll talk, and I'll make suggestions and keep you informed. You're attendance to the suggestions is entirely voluntary." "Wait now, what?" Link asked. He wasn't buying it, which wasn't hard to believe considering Zelda had made most of it up on the spot. She didn't know exactly what possessed her to fabricate all this, but she hadn't felt this excited and alive in a long time. "Alright, what's the catch?" "Well, it requires an oath," Zelda lied confidently, "an oath that your first loyalty will lie with me should I ever be threatened." "An oath?" Link asked, caution blooming on his features. For a moment, Zelda was certain she'd oversold the lie, and Link would laugh in her face. Then Link looked up and focused his eyes on hers. "That's a pretty big step for me, Princess. I sort of pledged that my first loyalty would be to myself and my own feelings. But there again, my feelings are that being in touch with you is a pretty good idea. If that means I'll be your provisional, off-the-books agent, I guess that's what I'll do." Link thought he saw Zelda flush slightly when he spoke of his feelings, but he disregarded it as he thought more about what he was agreeing to. The last thing in the world he wanted to be was tied down by a chain of command. Still, the Princess would know where the action was at, and what's more, he'd found that he really liked talking to her. If she knew a way to communicate conveniently at distance, some half-assed oath was hardly too much to pay. He wasn't about to give a real one when she was advertising her lies so openly, assuring him it wasn't really important to the process. "Very well," Zelda said, and pulled off the pendant hidden in her dress. It was a violet prism cut into a simple diamond shape like two pyramids bottom-to-bottom. Inside the cage it formed was a tiny glowing ball that faded in and out like it was breathing. This little trinket had jumped into her thoughts the moment Link had volunteered, and had woven itself into her whimsical lies quite perfectly. "Link," her voice was solemn as she knelt down to pass the pendant through the balcony posts, "this is a royal heirloom, so be very careful with it. I need you to hold it and make your oath." Link reached up and touched it, and their fingers brushed as she traded it to him. He seemed to think for a while, and then nodded. He was grinning in a way the Princess didn't trust. "I, Link of Ordon, do solemnly swear to listen to what Her Majesty has to say, carefully consider what it was that she said, and then go right on and make whatever decision I choose. Also, I suppose I'll back her up if she's ever in a tight spot. Err…" he made a show of wondering how to finish it, "oh right! Ahem: So help me goddesses." Before he was half done, Zelda was openly giggling, and the feeling of laughter was so wonderfully unfamiliar that she almost fell over and ruined her dress on the manicured lawn. It didn't matter that he'd cracked open her fumbling ploy, so long as he consented, and the humorous way he'd broken any pretense of believing her was a lesson in humility as well as humor. She hadn't laughed since… since the last time she'd spoken with him. She realized he was staring at her, and that damn blush came back. "Let me see the pendant again, but hold on tight," Zelda told him. When he held it up, she gently touched the stone. It flashed, and as she pulled her hand away, a phantom outline of the pendant followed it, clinging to her fingers. In a few seconds, it coalesced into a perfect copy of the original. "What's this for?" "You'll see. For now you'd better get out of here, I'll be missed very soon," Zelda said, and a sudden breath of pain stung her at the thought of parting. Almost out of hand, she let her desire to inspire him with confidence and strength transfer to her mouth. As usual, she didn't know what she said, but that was the only thing usual about it. "What?" Link asked, obviously confused, "Was that… some kind of song… or something?" Zelda was shocked that it hadn't worked, and had no answer. It took but a moment for her to realize she had absolutely no power over Link, and the nonsense others found mesmerizing was just nonsense to him. Rather than disturbing her, it forced her to consider him from yet another new perspective. Here was an honest, inherently good person she couldn't bully, intimidate, or flim-flam with mystic voodoo. No matter what, he would always tell her straight what he thought of her decisions, and she couldn't silence him with her power, even by accidental, subconscious desire. Her insight spoke, and she realized connecting with Link was like she'd just been given a surrogate conscience. Of course, instead of a cricket, she got an unstoppable champion warrior. He was like the answer to all of her prayers wrapped up in one gorgeously-sculpted, blue-eyed package. Her nearly awed happiness went to her head and spilled out as words before she could check herself. "Link," she said, "I could just kiss you." "What was that, Your Majesty?" Link asked, apparently having actually missed it. Zelda clapped a petite hand over her mouth and blushed from her neck to her forehead. Link looked suspicious and thoughtful, and Zelda desperately wanted to escape this unbalanced feeling. "I should go!" She said, taking a hesitant step away. "Are you going to be okay getting down?" "Don't worry about me," Link's voice was muffled by the cliff corner between them until he pulled himself up to peek through the balcony railing posts, "I bumped into an old friend in the storage shed when I tucked away those two thugs I thumped at the front gate. But hey, Princess, you still haven't given me a clue where I should take myself! And. y'know I had other questions, too!" "I'll tell you tonight." "Tonight? You want me to climb this thing in the dark?" The look of despair he exaggerated theatrically was so farcical that Zelda struggled not to laugh again. "No!" she breathed past a giggle, "Don't worry, its all to do with that pendent. Now get out of here!" "Wait! One last thing," Link caught her up before she could spin away through the decorative tower-hedges. He'd been gripped by an inexplicable whim of his own, a desire that routed from storybooks and bard's tales that spoke of such occasions as this. "Come back over here, would ya?" Zelda did what he asked, if only after a nervous pause. Her blood was running hot in her veins, and she was facing a battery of feelings she wasn't used to dealing with. Her composure had never been this far gone for any reason in her memory, and it was almost frightening. At the edge of the railing, she put her hands on it and looked down at him one last time. In a blur, he jumped up, caught a hand on the railing next to hers, and pulled himself up one-handed like it was nothing. He finished the motion before she could begin to react, and pressed his lips gently to her small hand, even as she stumbled back in shock. The contact was like a lightning-jolt up her arm, and she was left speechless. "A little something to commemorate our new partnership," Link explained, pulling himself up until he was sitting on the balcony rail. While Zelda watched in open awe, he disconnected his climbing lifeline and gave her a wink and a jaunty wave. Then he jumped off the cliff. Zelda rushed to the edge, terror freezing her heart as the bottom fell out of her stomach. And then she was at the balcony looking over, a whooping howl of exhilaration echoing off the cliffs to greet her. Her jaw flopped open, because Link was now floating safely downward, the legs of a strange little bird gripped in both hands. It was one thing to know what the man was capable of, and something else entirely to witness it first-hand. Very quietly, she felt at the place on her hand his lips had touched. Under her breath, she said a prayer of dire warning to Hyrule's—or rather, to her—enemies. Anyone Link decided to go after was in serious trouble, and she had a list of suggestions that just seemed to get longer. Back at the party, Zelda found that she'd overstayed her respite, and dove head-first into the task of smothering rumors about where she'd been and restoring a sense of jovial normalcy to the evening. Everything was basically under control again when the happy air of the party was shattered by a bang-crack of exploding metal and a ripple of screams and shouts of surprise. Every eye in the garden looked in the same direction, and everyone saw Lord Reanalds gripping a hand over his right eye as concerned servants scrambled and fawned around him. He was raging and growling, and it was quickly clear that he was bleeding from the face. The quiet exploded a second time, but now it was because every voice in the area was raised in excited, wild speculation. Doubtless the rumors would be fantastic. At length, Reanalds' good eye, bloodshot with berserk fury, landed on Zelda. She felt that gaze wishing death upon her, and she ignored it as she played a crowd of courtiers like the slack-jawed cows they strove so hard to be. She had little to fear this time, because unlike the arrogant Earl, she had no trouble concealing her satisfaction when her victory was supposed to be secret. She would ever remain above reasonable suspicion for causing his lewd plot to literally explode in his face. After all, her spies were all quite loyal enough to keep quiet about the way they'd traced his purchase of her dress. They would never speak of how they'd researched the enchantment woven into the fabric, the enchantment Zelda had felt the moment she'd examined it, and traced that back to the hedge-wizard who'd fashioned it. He would never know of the cold, murderous desire she felt when Auru had passed on the report. Oh yes, he would never know she'd learned that the dress was spelled to appear invisible when seen through a special lens—a lens such as the Earl's dress monocle. And, knowing none of that, he would never discover how she'd subtlety tweaked the spell. She hoped the brief glimpse of her nude body was worth it to the lecherous scum, worth the scars his exploding monocle had carved forever into his flesh. Even as she ignored him, leaving him to flounder in uncertainty, she promised herself this was his last warning. Mercy was a dangerous thing, and Zelda almost regretted not going farther already. She resolved then that the next reprisal would end him, and he would never get a third chance to plot against her. That was what her wisdom told her—any strike against a foe had best be crippling, because a man can seek revenge for a small slight. But a man that has been demolished has no hope of striking back. Faron Woods, Ordonia Province Link pulled his cloak over himself like a blanket as he relaxed in the tree-shrouded burrow he'd found to camp out in. He didn't bother with a fire, what with the quality rations and small beer he'd looted from Reanalds Mansion, and it wasn't long before he was hunkering down to sleep. Epona was nearby somewhere, doing her own thing as usual, and though he didn't have a destination yet, he hadn't any other care in the world. Well, that wasn't quite accurate. To save his life, he couldn't imagine what had compelled him to go to such antics as kissing the princess's hand earlier. For some reason, he'd really wanted to impress the hell out of her, and parading cheesy storybook antics had seemed the perfect way. It had been worth it afterward, just seeing her expression was worth it, but where the motive came from, he couldn't really say. Like so many other things in his life since he'd fought for the gods, the decision hadn't been based entirely on his own will, even if it didn't oppose his general personality and goals in the slightest. It wasn't like he was regretting anything he was doing, he just didn't like the way he'd do it all without consciously deciding on it first. Before meeting her, he'd been split between a desire to dislike her for being a connection to that damn fated adventure, and the respect for the crown that was ingrained into any peasant at the deepest levels, reinforced by the mystical impression she'd given off at their previous meetings. The moment he'd seen her, standing there in quiet contemplation at the balcony, both of those had fled from his mind. He'd wanted to do for her anything that was within his power, and lacking that, he'd wanted her to be impressed that he was able to do very much indeed. The impulsive way it had all come out was annoying and a bit disturbing, but it all felt quite natural when he stopped to examine it. He was nearly passed out in the pitch darkness when a sudden humming vibration in the region of his chest nearly scared the piss out of him. He was tumbling and flailing in the darkness for almost a minute before he managed to rip the undulating little critter out of his tunic and spill it onto the dirt, where its glow lit up the night. It was a long moment before he recognized it as the pendant Zelda had given him. "Link?" Zelda's voice came out of the stone, almost startling him again. "Link, can you hear me?" Her voice was distant and echoing, like she was shouting to him from the other end of a narrow tunnel, but he could understand it without too much trouble. "Umm…" he leaned over close to the pendant, not exactly sure what to do, "Yes!" he half-shouted, feeling like an asshole for breaking the forest's silence while technically all alone. "No need to shout!" Zelda's voice complained, "The whispering stone works best when we use our indoor voices." The patronizing snipe drew a smile out of Link, and he moved to get comfortable as he stared down at the stone. So this was how they'd be keeping in touch. Ingenious. "So, how does this thing work?" Link asked, taking an interest, but mostly just testing a softer voice. "Magic," Zelda said, making it clear that he'd asked a silly sort of question. But she'd heard him. "Okay, Mademoiselle Smarty Knickers," Link wanted to crack his skull on a rock as he heard himself fall prey to the intoxicating familiarity of talking to her, using a silly diminutive to address a woman that could order him imprisoned or executed without a reason, much less due process. "So now that I'm at your service, what can I do for you? This is still your show, and now I'm listening. Go ahead and talk." "Actually, I recall you mentioned something about questions?" Zelda replied, and she had a hint of something in her voice, a quiet desperation, of all things, that got Link to thinking. A princess… any monarch, really… they wouldn't get too much of a chance to converse casually, would they? Why else would she put off briefing him about whatever leads on trouble she might have? Link cracked a smile that, as far as he knew, she couldn't see. Perhaps he'd stumbled into a different way he could help Hyrule, one none of them had seen coming. "Actually, Your Majesty," he began, "I didn't have anything pressing to ask." His burning curiosity about the Triforce had lessened now that he'd come to realize she was in basically the same boat he was. Asking about it couldn't hurt, and he resolved to have them compare notes before too long, but that was hardly a priority with the way every change had been anything but detrimental. "Was there anything you wanted to say? I'm all ears, and I can certainly keep a secret." That was incredibly forward of him, he knew, and chancy at best. He was holding his breath without realizing it. "Well…" Zelda hesitated, and Link felt a thrill of anxiety as he feared he might have offended her. It wasn't exactly proper for someone to confide in a member of the opposite gender, especially a virtual stranger, and particularly when the cleft in class was as vast as it was here. However, if she were set to stand on propriety and rebuff him, then her half-suppressed sigh of released tension and blooming hope wasn't a good start. "Do you… really mean that?" Zelda asked, and Link knew that, for better or worse, he'd scored a direct hit. Though he'd hardly have believed it even just one day ago, his monarch was a person too. That person was isolated by her status and her supreme ability, completely encircled by people who could hardly hope to grasp what made her so amazing. Goddesses, he knew that feeling better than he ever wanted to. Always in the past he'd had Midna around to shake things up with her snappish, elitist façade and uncompromising force of personality. She knew his every secret, and never pretended to be impressed by what he was. But, since her abrupt and permanent departure, Link himself had learned what it was like to be completely alone, even when surrounded by people. The Princess must have it even worse; she lived in a world where every single person she came into contact with was her subordinate, people she needed to impress with a sense of her imperviousness, and thus the overall power and security of the nation itself. Link had been victim to that act himself, until this most recent visit, and it wasn't the kind of impression that made one talkative in her presence. "Listen, Princess," Link said, trying for an open, honest tone, "I'm twenty miles from nowhere, lying in the pitch black of night other than your fancy magic necklace. If you've got anything at all to say, please, make my night. The goddesses know I'd be bored to sleep by now if you hadn't made this pleasantly surprising call." "Well then, if that's how you feel," she sounded totally amused by his description of the circumstances, and that much more at ease because of it, "I suppose there were a few things…" Zelda spoke in an even tone, hesitantly at first, but as soon as the first small pinhole opened in her burdened soul, the outpouring of stress under pressure forced it wide open until she was fairly singing her life to him. Most of it went in one ear and out the other. Crop yield projections? Budget and finance management? The ramifications of a new jailing policy on common law practice? What the hell did he know about those kinds of things? He simply made the appropriate responsive sounds when she paused and blessed his lucky stars she wasn't asking questions. When she tired or the conversation prompted him for a comment, Link pitched in with an anecdote about some bit of pretty countryside he'd seen, or used stories about his experiences from battle to draw similes that had greater or lesser metaphorical value to the actual subject. The first he'd had much practice telling to the people back home, or over a drink at Telma's Tavern to whoever would listen. The latter he'd never dared breathe a word of to anyone, and even though he barely scratched the surface of the terrors he'd spat upon, to finally broach that secret volume of memory with another person was a wonderful relief. Either way, he felt quite stupid, bumbling along in conversation with the most intelligent, articulate, and widely knowledgeable person he'd ever spoken with. But, somehow, she didn't condescend or patronize him at all. Indeed, she listened in rapt silence as he described the many sights he'd seen, and cooed in awe as genuine as a child's as when he recounted a few of the battles he'd survived. At length, it occurred to him that the outside world and all its manifold dangers and beauties were as mysterious to her as the endless heights of education and statesmanship were to him. That made him feel a little better about the balance of conversation. At length, each half of the dialogue wound down as the two participants became swollen with contentment. The conversation slowed to a stop, and a pleasant silence pervaded the endless dark of the black night around Link. "So… on to business," Zelda changed the subject, remembering business at last, over two hours after she'd first contacted him. "What do you know about Ghent?" "Ghent?" Link asked, "They speak some odd language there, right?" "Oh bother," Zelda's mild curse was so deadpan that it nearly had Link cracking up. Fortunately, she overpowered his urge to humor with her serious drive. "Link, Hyrule and Ghent are going to have problems very soon," she captured his attention immediately. "I'm sending a diplomatic mission, but I want you to go ahead as a free operator and use whatever means necessary to find out why their army is moving. After that, we'll talk more, or you can use your judgment on the best way you can apply yourself to keep things from coming to war. War would be very bad, Link." "Huh…" Link made no comment for a bit, and then asked, "Is there anything else?" "Link…" Zelda hesitated, "You won't be an agent of Hyrule for this work. Our diplomatic mission will be there too, but contacting them should be your very last resort. That means you're on your own, just a wanderer who happens to be in Ghent. Do you understand?" "Hah!" Link snatched the stone up and put it right up next to his mouth. "I wouldn't have it any other way." Category:Zelda Category:The Golden Power Category:The Golden Power Book One